


Beautiful Friend

by Riddle_Me_This_Darling



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Not A Fix-It, Period-Typical Homophobia, Unhappy Ending, discussion of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 07:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11179965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddle_Me_This_Darling/pseuds/Riddle_Me_This_Darling
Summary: Jimmy receives some news from an unfamilar face.





	Beautiful Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm back from the abyss.  
> I'm currently working on a few different fanfictions but I couldn't get this concept out of my head.
> 
> PLEASE HEED THESE WARNINGS:  
> \- Suicide will be discussed  
> \- References of blood  
> \- Funeral Discussion
> 
> If you feel that these topics would be too difficult for you to read, please do not continue. I would hate to make anyone uncomfortable.

The woman was slight, of average height and looked to be in her late-forties. Her hair was dark, as were her eyes and she was quite pale. She knew his name but her face was not familiar. She was softly spoken and had claimed to be a lady’s maid, but Jimmy was certain he had never worked alongside her when he had been in service.

“I suppose I better tell you my name,” she began nervously, a slight tremble in her quiet voice.

In her hands was a letter. She kept fiddling with it, turning it over every few seconds. There was penmanship on the front but Jimmy couldn’t read what it said.

“I’m Phyllis Baxter, Lady Grantham’s maid at Downton Abbey,” she explained. “I know that you used to work there. Your name cropped up in conversation a few times. You were a friend of my friend, Thomas Barrow. At least, the other’s said you were his friend.”

“Yes,” Jimmy answered bluntly. “I knew Thomas. He was Mr Barrow, the under-butler. He was a friend of mine, a good friend, but we’ve lost touch.”

“I – I know,” Phyllis Baxter stammered. “Nobody knew where you had gone after you left Downton. Anna Bates, Lady Mary’s maid and –“

“I know Anna Bates,” he said flatly. It was early in the morning and he was very tired. He did not have the patience for mysterious conversation. “Mrs Baxter –“

“Miss Baxter,” she interrupted calmly. “I’m not married.”

“Erm, _Miss_ Baxter, sorry.” Jimmy apologised. He paused for a moment and watched Miss Baxter stroke her index across the letters on the envelope. “Look,” he said, “I don’t mean to be rude but can I ask why you’re here? It’s just, I don’t know you, you see. I’m confused as to why you’ve come to see me. I don’t even know how you’ve found me since we’ve never met before. I haven’t spoken to Thomas for months and I mean months, and he was the only one I wrote to but he’s not here, you are.”

Miss Baxter blinked twice and opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again. Smiling sheepishly, she broke eye contact and stared fondly at the letter in her lap. Jimmy noticed that she was shaking.

“Has something happened to Thomas?” he asked wearily. “I’m not sure what you –“

“Yes, something has happened.” She said, nodding. She kept on nodding but didn’t offer any further information.

“Right. So, can you tell me what has happened, Miss Baxter?” Jimmy pressed, his patience wearing all the more thin. “I’ve got places to be.”

To his surprise, the woman’s eyes misted over and her face crumpled. A lone tear slid down her right cheek, but she quickly wiped it away and whimpered softly, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. Jimmy didn’t know what to say, so he gave Mrs Baxter time to compose herself before interrogating her further. He felt cold and numb, nauseous even. Those who were of sound mind did not cry for no reason. She didn’t look mad or hysterical. Something had happened to Mr Barrow.

“I’m sorry,” Mrs Baxter said quietly, flapping her hands awkwardly. The mysterious letter almost slid off her knee. “It’s just…we all thought that you should know because we knew that you and Thomas sometimes wrote to one another. The other servants didn’t know how to find you, so me and Mrs Hughes – we felt awfully intrusive – we searched Thomas’s room and in a drawer, we found a letter from you. Your address was in the corner. It was months old and we were concerned that you would have moved on. Lord Grantham contacted Mr Murray to see if he had any connections that could help track you down, but he couldn’t help. So, I took a day off work and took the chance…the chance to see if you were still at your old address. You weren’t, but a man knew where you had gone. So here I am, I’ve found you.”

Another tear slid down her cheek but Jimmy didn’t notice; he was no longer focusing on her face. He was staring at the clock above her head on the mantelpiece. It was quarter-past four in the afternoon and it had stopped raining over an hour ago.

“Mr Kent, Thomas has died,” Mrs Baxter continued. Her voice cracked when she said the word ‘died’.

Jimmy wondered if the rain would return in the evening. He hoped it would stay dry because he had a good ten minutes’ walk to the club he was currently working in.

“He…well, he hadn’t been happy for a while.” Mrs Baxter muttered. “He had always been rather short with people, and very distant, but for the past few months he had seemed…empty. That’s best word I can use to describe how he looked. I tried to talk to him, and so did Anna and the new footman, but it didn’t do any good. If you tried to reach out to him, he brushed it off. Not long ago, he had done something very silly – very silly indeed. He tried to change himself, and was fooled by quacks. He stopped doing that and he seemed a little better for a while, then he just seemed to become a ghost.” She stopped to take a shuddering breath. “I tried so many times to reach out to him. He didn’t want to know. It was very frustrating, but sad. I didn’t know he would take it that far. We all thought he was just being moody because he was looking for another job. It was time for him to move on, as not many households require under-butlers now. We all thought he was just downcast from that. We should – I should have known.”

Jimmy was sure that the room was swaying. Either that, or he was. He felt very sick. His tongue felt too large and he was sure that if he opened his mouth, it would fall out. His mouth felt very dry too. He also felt very chilly. Chilly and sick.

For a few moments, there was silence. The clock on the mantelpiece was a silent clock, it didn’t tick. If it did, it didn’t tick very loud. If Thomas Barrow had of been in the room, he would have made a comment about it and likely given it a personality. He loved clocks. He found them fascinating. His father had been a clock maker and it seemed as though Thomas had a natural affinity for them as well. It was a shame his father had been a bastard. Thomas would have enjoyed running his clock shop.

“Are you alright, Mr Kent? Miss Baxter asked shakily.

“What are you implying, Miss Baxter?” Jimmy asked her absent-mindedly. He was inattentive, still focusing his attention on the clock above her head.

A full minute passed by before he received an answer.

 “Thomas took his own life, Mr Kent.” Miss Baxter whispered. She didn’t seem to be able to say the words loudly. She looked faint.

“How?” Jimmy queried, unabashed. He finally looked at the woman’s face.

Miss Baxter visibly blanched and stole herself for a moment before settling back into her original position on her chair. She began to shake again and couldn’t meet Jimmy’s gaze.

“Thomas….” She began, but her voice faltered. She took three breaths and tried again. “Thomas slit his wrists in the bath. I was in the village with Mr Mosely and a strange feeling overcame me. Thomas had said something strange earlier – he had been acting oddly too, more oddly than normal. I ran back to Downton, but I tripped over a stone on the way. I was too late. Another footman, Andy, broke down the bathroom door. We were too late! We were too late. He was laying there…” She trailed off. “I’m sorry, you don’t need to hear that part, I apologise.”

“No!” Jimmy insisted, leaning forwards in his seat.

Miss Baxter jumped slightly and gave him a queer look, but she made no comment.

“Sorry,” Jimmy mumbled, embarrassed by his outburst. He sat back and swallowed the lump in his throat. “I just, I just meant that I…tell me. Tell me everything that happened. Please. If you can.”

The woman didn’t look surprised or disturbed, quite the opposite. Her expression softened and she laughed awkwardly; a strange, sad chuckle. Jimmy wasn’t sure what was funny.

“I’m glad someone cares enough to want to know,” she said gently. “It was awful. I can’t stop picturing what he looked like. He was in the bath, but he was dressed in his undershirt and trousers. He was so pale, paler than ever. His face was…quiet. Peaceful. Had he not been lying in the bath, he could have been asleep. I knew him when he was a boy. I was a friend of his sister, so I knew Thomas when he was a little. He had been a beautiful child. His face when we found him in the bath, he looked young again. Like the Thomas I once knew, untroubled and sweet, like an angel. He was very still.”

“Was there not blood?” Jimmy wondered, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. His eyes widened in horror. The question was rude and insensitive. Guiltily, he quickly apologised, “Bugger. I’m so sorry, Miss Baxter. I didn’t think.”

Graciously, she shook her head and held up a polite hand to quieten him.

“It’s alright,” she said. “Yes, there was a lot of blood. There was blood in the water. It was red. Then there was blood on the sides of the bath where Thomas’s arms rested, and some on the floor. It was nightmarish, but Thomas looked peaceful as anything. I hate to think he did that to himself. I still can’t…I keep thinking he’s asleep. I keep thinking he’ll wake up and come downstairs.”

Jimmy nodded slowly. He could empathise.

“Nobody can believe it still,” she carried on. “Not everyone was told what really happened, although I think most of the servants and close members of the Crawley family know. The day maids and the hall boys, some of the villagers too, were told that Thomas had taken ill and that sadly his poor health had resulted in the loss of his life. Word got around that it could have been his smoking habits that ruined him because he seemed perfectly healthy. People are now wondering if cigarettes are dangerous. I’ve always been wary of them because smokers seem to cough more. Thomas was terrible in the winter; his colds always took the longest to shift. When people offered their condolences, we were told to go along with the theory that it was Thomas’s lungs that caused him to be ill. At first Mr Travis, the pastor, didn’t want to bury Thomas in the graveyard because he was suspicious of his character and death. Everyone was upset with this and Lady Mary had been furious, as was Lord Grantham. Lady Mary stormed down to the church, followed by Mr Talbot, her husband and apparently had sharp words with him, reminding Mr Travis that Thomas had served our country during the war, and that he had been a member of this community for years. It took a couple of days but after Lord Grantham gave one final push, we eventually were able to lay Thomas to rest.”

“Good,” Jimmy said thickly. If he could, he would smack the pastor so hard, he'd be knocked back into 1912.

At his response, Miss Baxter’s eyes lit up and for the first time since he had met her; she seemed genuinely happy.

“What was lovely,” she said, somewhat dreamily, “was that quite a lot of people turned up for his funeral. An old footman who had apparently worked with you, Alfred, turned up. Of course, you would have been invited if we knew where to contact you." Jimmy swallowed and nodded solemnly. "Lady Painswick and Lady Edith's editor also came. Did you know Edith Crawley runs a magazine? It's very popular. Lady Rose also came, along with her husband. She was very upset, she liked Mr Barrow.” Miss Baxter suddenly laughed. “You know, Lady Rose said that she always found Mr Barrow handsome. How sweet of her!" She dabbed at her leaking eyes before continuing, “We didn’t know what to expect but he had such a good turnout, it was touching. Dr Clarkson attended, naturally, as did Mrs Crawley and Lord Merton. The Dowager came with Mr Spratt and Miss Denker. Denker actually looked rather sad. Mr Mason sat next to Daisy. He was sad to see another young man's life cut short. Daisy was so upset, she cried all day. She still cries now. Before the funeral began, Dr Clarkson almost ran back to the hospital to get her a sedative because she became hysterical. She's still very young, poor girl. During the service, Lord Grantham read out a speech. He thanked Thomas for his service to his family, and for amusing us all with his antics. He said that for all he had caused mischief over the years, Downton was not going to be same without him. Mr Carson spoke and he was very emotional. In a way, I suppose Thomas had been almost like a son to him. A rather wayward one in many respects, but something of a son nevertheless. He said that for all Thomas had been challenging at times, he was his second in command and that he would have made a fine butler. Then I spoke, and I told everyone a couple of stories about Thomas when he was a child. He had been a funny boy.”

“That’s nice,” Jimmy whispered. His eyes were watering and he felt physically sick, but he didn't want to cry in front of a stranger. He didn't deserve to cry. He hadn't contacted Thomas for a long time. Perhaps he could have helped. He could have tried to visit him one last time.

Phyllis added, “Everyone was so lovely. A few of the villagers looked indifferent, but they didn’t know Thomas. Either that or he had caused trouble for them at some point, you never know with him. I’m privy to a piece of information that is only known between myself, Anna, Lady Mary, Lady Grantham and Lord Grantham. Apparently Lord Grantham had received a peculiar letter from the Duke of Crowborough. He had written to say that he had passed by the area with friends but unfortunately hadn’t had a chance to pay the Crawley’s a visit, for which he was sorry. He had overheard that a member of Lord Grantham’s staff had died, a Thomas Barrow, and the Duke apparently recognised the name. He offered his condolences and said that even though servants may not be family, they are still an important part of their lives and that good servants are always dearly missed. Lord Grantham thought it was odd and shrugged it off, but Lady Mary wondered if there had been something between the Duke and Thomas because apparently the Duke had done something strange when he visited the family in the past. Besides, people who were practically strangers don't write letters to say they are sorry to hear a servant has died. He sounds like a bit of an eccentric, the Duke. I wonder if Lady Mary is right in her thinking. If it was true, Thomas and a Duke? How strange.”

“He did know a Duke, he told me once.” Jimmy said quietly. “They had been lovers. It didn’t end well at all.”

Miss Baxter smiled sadly but didn't say anything, instead she looked down at letter in her lap and sighed.

“I almost forgot about this,” she muttered.

“What is it?” Jimmy asked. He feared it was Thomas’s last…words.

Miss Baxter held it up, then stretched out her arm to hand it to Jimmy.

“It’s addressed to you,” she said gently. “We found it in Thomas’s room. It’s a letter that he wrote to you. It was in his drawer, along with the letter you had sent him. He had left a small note on top that read ‘remember to post this’. He obviously never did, or he purposely didn’t send it. He didn’t even finish writing your full address on the envelope.”

Jimmy took the letter and stared at his own name.

**_ James Kent _ **

 

The penmanship was beautiful and neat, definitely Thomas Barrow’s handwriting. Jimmy would have recognised it anywhere. Glancing at Miss Baxter, he saw that she was watching him intently. He carefully opened the envelope. The letter read:

 

_Dear Jimmy,_

_It’s winter and it’s cold, and I do not like it. I’ve got a sore throat, a sore chest and I feel rotten. Mrs Patmore keeps forcing honey and lemon down my throat. Mr Carson has forbidden me to speak in front of the Crawley family unless I am directly addressed._

_I’m on the hunt for a new job as Downton hardly needs an under-butler, so hopefully I’ll be butler all on my own soon and I won’t be heckled for having a cold. Mrs Hughes keeps tutting whenever I go outside for a smoke. Apparently, I’m not helping myself. Pssh._

_I’m also nearly out of cigarettes but I don’t want to have to walk down to the village tomorrow. Maybe I can bribe Andy to go, or maybe Anna._

_~~One good thing that is happening at the moment is that the Crawley children are becoming little people in their own right. I’m Master George’s favourite pony and he has to take me for a ride every day. Not everyone can skip out on their duties to entertain a child, I’ll tell you. I don’t mind and neither does nanny. I’m helping to make her life a little easier. Maybe I’m finally on the path to redemption, whatever that is.~~ _

_I hope you’re doing well._

_~~I’ve just heard the hall boys pass by my door. They are arguing and it reminded me of you and Alfred. I’m not going to lie, for all I didn’t mind him in the end, I wasn’t sad to see the back of him. I hope he’s doing alright though.~~ _

**_~~So, you are working in a~~ _ **

**__ **

_Thomas._

Three silent minutes past by before Jimmy spoke again.

“He had a bad cold,” he choked out.

“Oh, is that what he wrote about?” Miss Baxter wondered. She suddenly shook her head. “No, don’t tell me. It’s your letter, I shouldn’t pry.”

Jimmy shrugged and said, “It’s alright. He’s not said anything particularly important. He has mentioned that he’s looking for a new job, but he’s made a joke of it. He said he won’t he heckled for having a bad throat if he was the butler in another household. He’s scribbled it out, but I can see that he’s mentioned that Master George – that’s Lady Mary’s son?”

“Yes,” Miss Baxter nodded.

Jimmy snorted softly. “Apparently Thomas is his favourite horse and I’m assuming they play together. Thomas liked avoiding his duties to play with him.”

“He did that!” Chirped Miss Baxter. She clapped her hands together and beamed at Jimmy, although her eyes were watery.

“Thomas likes children,” Jimmy remembered. “You wouldn’t have expected him to.”

Miss Baxter gushed, “He adores the Crawley children, especially George.”

He could only nod in reply, reminiscing about how suspicious Thomas been of Nanny West. Of course, he hadn’t liked being bested by her so he had been determined to give her a black mark out of spite, but he could remember the moment when Thomas’s attitude had changed. He cornered Jimmy in the stairwell, urgently whispering about what a witch the nanny was. He had looked genuinely upset.

_“She’s not looking after Miss Sybbie properly, Jimmy. I can tell! She wouldn’t let her have her eggs and Sybbie loves her eggs. I know she’s being unkind to her, I’m telling you. She’s starving her!”_

“He was so sweet sometimes,” Miss Baxter said sadly.

“Yes,” Jimmy agreed. “He was.”

 

Miss Baxter left soon afterwards. She had bid Jimmy farewell and even gave him a soft peck on the cheek which made him blush. She was a lovely woman, warm and charming. In personality, she had reminded Jimmy of his dead mother.

 

* * *

 

 

That night, Jimmy had lain awake in bed thinking of Thomas. He could remember how tall he had been, and how strong looking. His black hair had always been perfectly combed, his suits ironed to perfection. For the first time in his life, Jimmy allowed himself to think about how handsome his friend had been; his piercing eyes, his pale skin, his sharp cheekbones. He had been a beautiful man, with a beautiful mind too. Thomas had been so intelligent, so quick witted. He had also been a damn good friend to Jimmy too, a better friend that he deserved. How cruelly Jimmy had once treated him. He was still ashamed now, especially now. He hadn’t even bothered to keep in touch.

Now his friend was gone.

“Good night, Thomas.” He whispered thickly. “Sleep well.”

 

 

He wouldn’t forget his friend, Thomas. Not now, not ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to shout abuse at me through your phones, tablets and computers.  
> This was interesting to write, but it wasn't fun.
> 
> I apologise for any errors and mistakes.
> 
> (I'm so sorry).


End file.
